


Raising Mischief

by tricksterblossoms



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Ableist Language, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bigotry & Prejudice, Family Feels, Found Family, Gen, Kid Fic, Other, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Slash, baby Loki, clueless parenting, dad thor, de-aged character, pre-slash Bucky/Steve
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:46:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23721064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tricksterblossoms/pseuds/tricksterblossoms
Summary: “I cannot give you the Casket. I am not King,” Thor hoped his voice did not betray how harshly that sentence stung. “I doubt the Allfather will return a weapon as powerful as the Casket into the hands of a King gone mad, as you so describe.”The Queen nodded. “I suspected as much, which is why I am asking you to take my child with you and raise him as an Asgardian.”Thor paused, mouth falling agape. He couldn’t have heard that correctly. “I’m sorry,” Thor let out an awkward chuckle “I’m afraid you misspoke. You want me to do what?”******A story where Loki is born much later, Thor becomes an accidental dad, and two late-teenagers from Brooklyn find out aliens are real.
Relationships: Loki & Thor
Comments: 10
Kudos: 97





	Raising Mischief

**Author's Note:**

> So I’m stuck at home and without a job thanks to this wonderful pandemic. I guess it’s the best time to write fanfic? I haven’t written anything in two years so it feels nice to start up again. This was born out of my love for accidental parent tropes and my love for adorable found family shenanigans. I have a whole outline and timeline set up, but I’m not sure how many chapters this will be. Do get ready for some major screwing with the MCU canon timeline.

Thor was a prince. The heir to the throne of a realm powerful enough to control the fates of others. He took great pride in his position. After all, who would want a king with a weak will? Even as a child when his mother warned him about his ego becoming too heavy for him to carry, Thor just responded that he would simply become stronger to hold the burden. His mother chuckled, hugged him, and asked the spirits of all the nine realms how she was given a boy with so much confidence. 

And so, he paid little attention to warnings about his pride (though Sif liked to call it pigheadedness) and went on with life as usual. He was the sole prince of the greatest realm in the universe, therefore he was proud and that was only natural. 

Just as natural as seeking retribution for an act of war. Which was why when a group of Frost Giants had attempted to steal the Casket of Ancient Winters during Thor’s coronation ceremony, Thor found his father's talk of peace to be entirely senseless. 

“They have paid, with their lives,” Odin said, looking down at the Casket. It was positioned back on top of its pedestal, a swirling blue and black block of pure cold.

“But father, they clearly meant harm! They murdered two of our people!” Thor yelled in outrage. He knew those men. They had been castle guards for longer than Thor could remember. Good men lay dead before them; slain by monsters seeking power they never should have had in the first place. 

“I have a truce with Laufey, King of the Jotuns.”

Thor clenched his jaw. He looked away from the bodies on the floor and at his father. “And he has broken your truce! They know you are vulnerable.” Thor could hear his voice growing louder, but did not care to change his volume. If there were others to witness his conversation with the Allfather, perhaps he would be able to rein in his anger, but it was simply the two of them and two dead Asgardians. The corpses of the pulverized Frost Giants hardly counted as people. “As king-“ Thor yelled.

“But you are not king.” Odin's voice boomed around them, shaking the walls and drowning out anything Thor was about to say. Thor took a half-step backwards, shock and anger curling up his throat. Looking at his father now, even though they stood at the same height, he felt like a young boy. Odin frowned at his only son, and with a firm voice said, “Not yet,” and brushed past Thor as he walked away. 

Thor could admit his actions after that discussion were fueled by anger and pride, but he did not see why that would be a shameful thing. 

He was angry about the Frost Giants believing themselves better than Asgardian defenses. He was angry that two Asgardian lives were lost in a fight that lacked honor and meaning. He was angry that his father seemed to think Thor so unworthy of the throne he would abstain from his Odinsleep to keep Thor from it. 

But pride is what fueled Thor to act. He was proud of his father and the tales of great wars won in his name. If Odin thought Thor was unable to follow in his footsteps, he would simply have to prove him wrong. Which is what led Thor, the Lady Sif, and The Warriors Three into the forbidden lands of Jotunheim.

So when the Frost Giant guard made the quip to “Run back home little princess,” Thor was reminded of who he was and why he was here in the first place. He was the son of a great king, who ruled all nine realms. These beasts needed reminding of that, he thought as he smashed his hammer onto the side of the Giant’s face. 

And remind them he did. He beat them back, three and four at a time. With his mighty hammer none of the Giants were a match for him,

“Thor! We _must_ go!” He heard Sif scream over the sounds of metal on ice, as the Asgardians cut down one Frost Giant after another. 

“Then go!” Thor yelled back. He laughed while he threw his hammer, relishing the rush of adrenaline that came with a good fight. He heard Volstagg shout his name, but Thor was too distracted by the line of Frost Giants that were rushing toward them. Thor spun his hammer, and with a mighty shout threw it at them. He watched as it burst through and knocked over his enemies. Thor was not going to cease fighting until his enemies fell or surrendered.

Until time itself seemed to halt. Mjölnir slowed, floating toward the giants. Thor feared for a moment that something was interfering with its power, until he realized it wasn’t just his hammer that had slowed down. Everything had. The Frost Giants moved as if caught in quicksand. Those who were mid-jump or falling did so at an unnatural rate, their faces frozen in anger, shock, or pain. Even the snow stayed suspended in the air.

Confused, Thor searched for his companions and was horrified to see them grouped together. Volstagg supported Fandral who was unnaturally pale. Hogun and Sif covered their wounded shield-brother as they fought off two Frost Giants each. And a monster, not a Frost Giant, but a proper monster, was moments away from breaking free from its ice and descending upon his friends. Thor started to move toward them.

“Thor of Asgard,” came a deep, soft voice from behind him.

Thor spun, fists clenched. Thor tried to tell himself that he was still a powerful foe, even with the absence of Mjölnir's weight in his hands.

A Frost Giant, draped in furs and intricately embroidered cloth stood before Thor. Its long inky black hair was slicked back and braided on either side. Holding the two braids together were clusters of twinkling ice. Unsurprisingly for a Frost Giant, ice was everywhere on its body from its jewelry and shoes, to the sharp blue horns that protruded from its forehead. Thor had never seen it used in such a way. It stood shoulder to shoulder with the tallest of warriors surrounding it, but had a slimer build. It’s face was delicate and feminine but sharp and no less intimidating. Thor couldn’t quite place the gender of the creature, but he had heard once that Frost Giants could change their sex as easily as a snake shedding skin. Curiously, cradled in the giant's massive arms was a bundle of cloth, creating the illusion that the Giant was larger than it actually was.   
  


  
“Did you do this?” Thor demanded, shifting from foot to foot. He had to be ready for any attack.

The Frost Giant raised one thin black eyebrow at Thor’s comment. “Do you see anyone else standing unaffected amongst us?” The Giant asked in a melodic rumble. Thor was hit with the impression the Giant was laughing at him and scowled. 

“Break this enchantment, witch,” Thor seethed.

The Giant continued to stare at Thor, an unimpressed expression tugging at its face. “You want me to undo my enchantment,” it stated in a flat voice. “Just like that. No questions asked. Are you not curious why I would bother with such a complicated and draining spell to talk to the likes of you?”

Thor bristled. “It is obvious you mean to kill me. No one stops in the middle of a war to simply share words.”

The melodic rumble was back, but this time it held an edge. The Giant gave a savage smirk to Thor. “War? I see no war before me.” It stepped closer, several heads taller than Thor, it loomed over him. A blood red gaze pierced into Thor. “I see a boy throwing a temper tantrum.”

Thor puffed out his chest and snarled. “I am seeking justice for fallen Asgardians. Fallen because of greedy Frost Giant hands.”

The Giant took a slight step back, and let out a put-upon sigh. “Yes, I suppose from an Asgardian’s perspective it would seem very _greedy_ for me to try to take back what rightfully belongs in Jotunheim.” It brought its other arm up to shift the weight of the small bundle it held. The Giant looked down at it, sadness suddenly washed over it’s angular features. “Funny, the double standard that always plagues the powerful.”

Thor’s jaw clenched. He had no patience for this sorcerer’s games. “For _you_ to take back?” Thor asked, narrowing his eyes. “Am I to believe you managed to sneak Frost Giants into Asgard’s relic room? That Laufey had nothing to do with this?”

The Giant looked away from whatever it carried and back at Thor. “My husband has little to do with anything other than sitting on his throne fantasizing about the Jotunheim of the past.”

Thor was taken back. He had little knowledge of the Jotunheim royal family and had given it very little thought. He simply knew Laufey was the king, thinking that was all that mattered. Loath as he was to admit it to anyone but himself, but perhaps he was wrong. Thor inspected the Giant again, taking in the truly detailed work of the cloth and furs. While no proper Asgardian woman would be caught dead in such garbs, Thor could see how it was worthy of a Jotun Queen. He was genuinely impressed, because he had no idea Jotunheim cared for any artistry at all. 

“I needed the Casket of Ancient Winters back,” She continued, looking around at the violence frozen around them. “It belongs in Jotunheim. We were once a realm of greatness and power, and now I watch as my people and my world decays in front of my eyes.” She paused and held her chin high, observing the mess of cracked stone and ice that was Jotunheim’s throne room. “We were once glorious.” The Queen of Giants said the last sentiment in a deep sorrowful whisper, as if talking to the ghost of Jotunheim itself. 

Thor felt a strange sort of discomfort creep up his spine. He never had much contact with Frost Giants, outside of the occasional skirmish or the few times Odin took him on short political visits as a boy. Never had he witnessed a Frost Giant show this sort of vulnerability. He felt something that was suspiciously similar to guilt. Angry at the emotion, he quickly dismissed his thoughts. This Queen acted as if Jotunheim was the victim, and ignored the Frost Giant actions that lead to such consequences. “Jotunheim tried to conquer Midgard” Thor swept his hand out in front of himself. “You nearly destroyed it. If it wasn’t for Asgard, you would have wiped out an entire race!”

The queen simply stood there, unaffected by Thor’s anger. She caressed the cloth bundle, and Thor swore he saw it move. “Yes. So easily does the path of pride transform into a path of self-destruction, and unfortunately it is weakness that makes a warrior grow wise.” She paused and glanced behind herself, looking at Laufey frozen on his throne. “Or grow mad I suppose.”

Thor shook his head and furrowed his brow. “You speak ill of your king, take actions against another realm without his permission, and use your magic to converse with an enemy right under his nose,” Thor said confused. “What is driving these treasonous actions?” 

She turned away from Laufey and looked down at what was in her arms. A thin smile gracing her features. It was not the mocking smirk of before, but a smile accompanied by icy tears that threatened to run down her pale blue cheeks. Without looking up, she answered Thor’s question. “A mother will stop at nothing to save her child.”

Thor watched as she shifted the cloth to reveal a tiny blue face with small red eyes. It was silent, no whimpers, coos, or cries that usually accompanied babies. It was also incredibly tiny. The cloth the child was swaddled in looked like it was swallowing the child whole. Even for Asgardian standards the babe was small, but for a Frost Giant it had to be completely unnatural. The Queen of Jotunheim had given birth to a weakened runt. 

A sickly sort of horror welled up inside Thor at the thought of what the Frost Giants probably did to sickly and weak children. Laufey had no use for a babe barely larger than the King’s hand. 

In a direct contradiction to the images racing through Thor’s mind, the Queen delicately hugged her child closer to her chest, and cooed absentmindedly. She gently patted the child’s back, before giving Thor her attention once more. 

“Though he was born with a frail body, my son also was blessed with a strong connection to magic. While it may be the only thing keeping him alive at the moment, the depleting magic in these lands cannot sustain him.” Her solemn voice pierced Thor. “I fear without magic to help him grow he will perish. I have done the best I can, but I also grow weary.” 

Thor considered her words. “You wanted the Casket to bring strong magic back to Jotunheim, to save your child.”

“Oh look, he’s capable of intelligent thought,” The queen’s biting smirk was back and Thor glared. Her smirk quickly sank back into a small frown as she continued to speak. “I know now I cannot steal the Casket back. I also know my husband and he will never reveal weakness, especially to Odin. If the suffering of thousands of Jotuns does not make Laufey bend a knee to Odin, the life of a single child he does not want will do nothing to sway his ego.” 

Thor clenched and unclenched his jaw. His whole life he believed Frost Giants to be savage, ruthless, ice monsters, with only their burning rage toward Asgard to warm their souls. Yet this was their Queen. She conducted herself with a regality that could easily match Thor’s own mother, and wove her words like a skilled artisan would weave a tapestry. Plus when Thor looked at her, he saw only a mother who wanted to save her child. He was confused with how much he wanted to help, and was wary of these sudden feelings of empathy. After all, he was dealing with a sorcerer. 

“I cannot give you the Casket. I am not King,” Thor hoped his voice did not betray how harshly that sentence stung. “I doubt the Allfather will return a weapon as powerful as the Casket into the hands of a King gone mad, as you so describe.” 

The Queen nodded. “I suspected as much, which is why I am asking you to take my child with you and raise him as an Asgardian.”

Thor paused, mouth falling agape. He couldn’t have heard that correctly. “I’m sorry,” Thor let out an awkward chuckle “I’m afraid you misspoke. You want me to do what?” 

The Queen’s face did not change as she explained her absurd request. “My child will be able to grow and thrive in Asgard, as the magic there is vast. You will raise him and see to his safety, and I will inform Laufey of the death of our son.” Her posture was stiff and her words were practically monotone, as if reading from a scroll. 

Thor was dumbfounded. If it wasn’t for her serious gaze, he would have thought that the Queen of Jotunheim was jesting. He scanned the room, mostly at the impulse to look at anything other than the Queen as he processed her words. With a start, he noticed the minute level of movement he had observed earlier had quickened. It would have been comedic watching the Frost Giants move in slow motion if it wasn’t so worrisome. Thor’s nerves calmed once he glanced over his shoulder to see Mjölnir had also sped up and changed direction. 

“Is it common for Asgardians to be suddenly rendered incapable of speech?” The Queen hissed. “Or are you a special breed?” 

Thor turned back to the Queen and glared. “You ask for the impossible from me and insult me in one breath. Why should I do as you wish? Even if he is small, a Frost Giant can be disguised as an Asgardian no more than a rat can be disguised as a horse.”

The Queen growled and stepped forward as if to attack, rage in her bloody eyes. Thor was quick to defend, lifting his fists on instinct alone. 

She stopped abruptly and let out a frustrated snarl. She stood an arms length away from Thor, towering over him. He could see her watery eyes and the conflicting emotions that passed over her face. Thor tried to ignore the prick of sympathy in his chest. He watched warily as she brought her son up to her mouth, and for a split second Thor remembered the frightening tales he heard as a child of Frost Giants consuming their young. Yet again, the Queen failed to bring truth to Asgardian rumors. She kissed her son’s forehead and whispered something in a language Thor could not understand. With another forehead kiss, she bent over, and gently held her hands out to Thor, the child safety nestled in them.

“Hold him and your concerns will be calmed.”

Thor was not sure what exactly compelled him to reach out and take the child without question. In the near future, Thor would first say it could have been a magical compulsion, an unnecessarily convoluted trap sorcerers often liked to set. After some time he would say the strings of fate itself moved his arms like a roadside puppeteer. Much later, and only in the company of dear friends, he would explain that he saw a little trusting blue face snuggled within a pound of warm cloth, and simply could not refuse.

The child was small, but even with Thor’s limited amount of knowledge, he knew the child wasn’t an infant. Perhaps only a year old. His messy thin hair on the top of his head was black like his mother’s and he had two small bumps on his forehead where Thor supposed little horns were growing. The child’s silence was worrisome and Thor wondered if it was because he was so weak. It felt strange that a baby would stay silent when taken from their mother’s arms by a complete stranger. 

While Thor looked at the child, he realized he was also being observed right back. Small curious red eyes moved around Thor’s face. He felt mad, but it seemed like the child was judging whether Thor was worthy enough to hold him. Thor lifted a hand and stuck his pinky out, bizarrely overcome with the need to shake the baby’s hand in a proper greeting. A cold, little hand wrapped around his pinky finger and the baby let out a small gurgle of happiness.

The child also started to change. He began to warm up, and his skin started to match Thor’s own, though paler in complexion. His red eyes faded into an emerald green and even the little bumps on his head disappeared. In a single second Thor was no longer holding an unnatural Frost Giant runt, but an Asgardian child who was slightly on the small side.

Immensely confused Thor looked back up at the Queen. Her eyes glistened and her face twitched. She too was looking down at her child, nearly all resemblance between them lost except for their ink black hair. 

Feeling uncharacteristically lost and emotional, Thor glanced between the mother and child. “I still cannot take him,” Thor said softly. “I have no idea how this would remain a secret, and if it gets out that I kidnapped a prince of Jotunheim, surely war will break out.” It wasn’t only war with Jotunheim Thor was thinking about. An act of kidnapping a prince would also surely tarnish Asgard’s reputation within the nine realms. It was possible Jotunheim would be able to ally themselves with other realms who viewed it as Asgardian power going unchecked.

Also, what would his people think of him? What sort of warrior raises their enemies' children?

The Queen’s eyes darted back to Thor and her face twisted in an ugly sneer. “You would risk war to avenge two deaths that cannot be undone, but think it a joke to do the same thing to save an innocent child.”

Frustrated, Thor held the child back out to the Queen. “I cannot do what you ask of me.”

To his astonishment, the Queen did not take back her child, but instead fell on her knees. She was eye level with Thor, and he could see clearly the tears openly flowing from her eyes and freezing on her cheeks. “Please, Thor Odinson of Asgard. If you take my child I will save you and your friends from this mess. There will be no consequences with Laufey, the Allfather may never hear of this squirmish from Jotun lips, and you will gain a powerful ally in a land of enemies.” 

Thor stared down at the Queen in shock. “You would betray your whole realm for this?”

“I would destroy the whole universe if it meant keeping my child safe,” the Queen growled.

Thor looked around at the quickening Giants and at his friends who were possibly moments away from fighting the unfrozen beast that descended upon them. He knew his friends though. There was a good chance they would be able to make it out of this with only a few scrapes and bruises (perhaps more in Fandral’s case). Thor was confident in their battle skills, so the Queen’s help in that regard was unneeded. It also was useless to hide this battle from the Allfather. It would defeat why Thor came in the first place. He wanted to prove to his father that he was capable of defending Asgard just like Odin did in legend. The only thing possibly useful in the Queen’s deal was her pledge of allyship, but Thor was unhappy with winning wars by secrecy and treachery.

“Make your choice swiftly, Thor Odinson. My spell is close to breaking,” the Queen hissed.

Thor looked back down at the child in his arms. A Frost Giant despite his current appearance. An enemy.

The baby’s head cocked slightly to the side, and he let out a small noise. It had no structure, simply a nonsensical baby noise, but to Thor it sounded like an inquiry. As if the baby was impatiently waiting for Thor’s reply.

Thor could not hold back his smile.

“I will accept your deal,” Thor proclaimed, and saw the Queen’s shoulders sag. 

“Thank you, Thor Odinson.”

If her voice broke while thanking him, Thor refused to notice. Tucking the child close to him, Thor turned slightly and held out his hand for Mjölnir. He didn’t want it crashing into him and the child once the Queen’s spell broke. “How are we to return, if not the Bifrost,” Thor questioned and glanced down when he felt a tug, the child was playing with a loose strand of Thor’s hair that must have been tickling his face.

Thor heard the Queen stand, but did not look up, too preoccupied with untangling the babe’s fingers from his hair. He tried to use the hand that held the baby to gently swat the hair away with his own fingers, but the child seemed to take that as a challenge and pulled harder. 

“There are many secrets of the nine realms you are unaware of, Asgard Prince. One of which is that there are always footpaths you may take that are not the mainroad.” 

Thor tried to direct his attention to the Queen but winced and brought his other hand to hold the baby’s hand still. Gleefully the child seemed to think it was a game now and squirmed in Thor’s arms. He fumbled and scrambled to keep hold of the suddenly restless child. The little guy was small, and perhaps his body was weak, but he made up for all of that with determination.

“What is his-“ Thor started to ask, but was caught off guard when the Queen clapped her hands and time renewed. He had just enough time to grab Mjölnir before he heard another clap, and suddenly he was being thrown through space. 

_Loki._ Thor heard inside his head. _His name is Loki._

  
  



End file.
